


In The Light's Shadow

by holdingtorches



Category: British Actor RPF
Genre: F/M, Spy - Freeform, Spy Tom, au!tom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-05
Updated: 2014-01-05
Packaged: 2019-02-06 15:35:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12820608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holdingtorches/pseuds/holdingtorches
Summary: This is the last fic I wrote before my four year hiatus. I think I myself at the time was put off with everything I tried to make this OC into, which is why I ended up not writing for three years. However, I respect the esteem that my former self held in this fic, and to be perfectly honest, it's an excellent idea, but the execution wasn't my finest.





	In The Light's Shadow

**11:30. Bangalore.**

He eyed the crowd warily, his eyes darting around as fast as they could. He had to keep a keen eye on his surroundings, given that it was a necessary action to take in his field of work. It was unbearably difficult, what, with the congested human traffic in the hot, humid country he was in. People chattering, vendors yelling, animals bleating and braying, the sounds of children playing and whining: for a scene happening so early in the morning, all of these readily-available factors were enough to set him off his focus. Not to mention the  _smell_. God, the heat only made it worse. He had to stop himself from getting sidetracked if he didn’t want to fall straight into the bubbling cauldron of peril that awaited him if he allowed his inattention to persist any longer.

He mentally cursed himself as he felt a pair of arms grab him from behind, placing a handkerchief soaked in chloroform over his nose. He sunk deeper into the darkness…

**12:30. Bangalore.**

He awoke to cold water crashing down on him, dousing his clothes and his hair. So much for fixing it for ten minutes earlier that morning.

“Agent Hiddleston,” a lilting voice drenched in a Middle Eastern accent slowly said. Tom opened his eyes and squinted as the harsh electric light hanging low above his head attacked his vision. He felt the rough jute rope tied firmly around his wrists, which were placed behind the chair he was seated upright on. His legs were tied to the chair also, one chair leg per one half of the pair that made his legs. The chair was the only piece of furniture, save the white plastic chair that was placed about four or five feet away from him.

“Where did your government hide the shipment of goods that arrived at the port last night?” the man asked. Tom’s captor was a middle-aged man, with a thick grey beard and white, shoulder length hair starting at the edge of his high forehead. If  _he_  was the one who was seated in the plastic chair earlier, it was a miracle that the plastic chair stayed intact; he was an extremely large man, larger than the sumo wrestler-cum-bodyguard that he had faced in Osaka earlier while on a case involving the Yamaguchi Bouryokudan. His copper-coloured skin appeared fairer in the light, and he had about him the smell of the street market Tom was in before he was abducted. His musty, moth-eaten suit was rank with the foul scent of God knows what, making Tom dream of smelling something nice the moment he arrived in a safe place, like lavender or his niece’s hair.

Tom peered from the edge of his eyes to see a woman covered by her black dress from head to toe in a  _niqab_  manner: he only saw her eyes. Those  _eyes._  They glinted with a foreboding knowledge of what was to come, the pupils indistinct from the irises. The dark eyes shone mysteriously with a silent, sparkling laugh, and Tom knew who was behind the light, billowing folds of the dress.

Tom swung his head slowly upwards to look his captor in the eye before he let his lips curve at one side to form a smug smirk. He felt a cold set of brass knuckles hit him hard on the cheek, blood trickling from a gash as his head turned from the blow’s force. He found himself looking eye to eye with the girl he noticed earlier. The woman gave him the slightest of winks before wordlessly walking over to his captor.

“I repeat,” the man hissed. “Where did your government hide the shipment of goods that arrived at the port last night?” It was obvious that he was in a hurry to procure the goods he was searching for, but Tom just wouldn’t give into his captor’s meagre prodding, now would he?

“In your underpants,” Tom answered, a giggle tainting his voice. His captor gave an exasperated roar before turning to the woman, who was now a few inches near the door. He barked a command to her.

“Navina, get the gun.”

The door clicked shut just as fast as it was opened, and Tom found himself alone with his abductor.

“I didn’t want to resort to this approach, Agent Hiddleston, especially with that attractive face of yours. But you leave me no choice,” the man whispered after leaning in closer to his face. Tom almost flinched at the odour of his captor’s appalling halitosis, and the man raised his hand to caress Tom’s unwounded cheek.

The door opened, and there were once again three of them in the room.

“Navina,” the criminal beckoned. “Shoot him for me. I don’t want to be traced.”

Tom heard soft padded footsteps walking towards him, stopping just behind his chair. A chiffon-covered arm snaked itself loosely around his neck before raising his head, making him look straight into his captor’s eye. He felt the cool muzzle of the pistol press against his temple. Ah yes, she was truly brilliant.

With one deft flick of the wrist, the gun switched from pointing to his forehead to aiming at the abductor’s crotch. The crook’s eyes widened with absolute terror, and Tom heard a smirk from the woman behind him.

“ _Alavidha,_ ” she said coolly before firing. One. Two. Three. The hostage taker took three shots to the crown jewels. Tom’s eyes widened with shock as a Swiss Army knife cut through the ropes on his hands and legs, setting him free.

“You actually shot him in the dick, Maia! Why would you do that?!” Tom said as he stood up, unable to conceal his wide grin. Maia gave a short “Tsk!” and a wink before bringing her  _niqab_  down, letting her long, brown waves free. She brought the part covering her mouth down, taking in a long gulp of blessed air before brushing her tongue briefly over her lips. She turned to face Tom and smiled the same sparkling, brilliant smile she showed him earlier through her eyes.

The captor, on the other hand, croaked in pain as blood pooled around his hips on the floor.

“…Navina…” he croaked.

Maia opened the kidnapper’s mouth and fished out a pack of Tic-Tacs from her pocket, which she then emptied out into his mouth before throwing the empty packet to the far corner of the room. She grabbed her backpack and cocked her head towards the open door, taking Tom’s hand. Together, they made a run for it, scurrying through the dusty concrete floors of the abandoned factory. Everything was going well until around ten men surrounded them, positioning themselves in a way that made it impossible for them to escape in any direction.

“Goons,” Maia whispered. “How did they escape?”

“You take the ones on the left, I’ll take the ones on the right,” Tom whispered back. The goons on Maia’s side relaxed, thinking that the woman they were going to fight was delicate and weak. What they failed to anticipate was that the pair followed the exact opposite of what Tom said; Maia punched and kicked and jabbed her way through five henchmen on the right as Tom used his capoeira skills on the remaining five.

Leaving through the rusty, old gates, they ran through the narrow streets that skirted the outer walls until they found themselves in the same street market Tom was abducted from. The squeezed themselves through the human traffic rushing through in various directions. Finally, they broke away from the crowd, only to find themselves in front of a Harley Davidson.

“Why did you say ‘ _Alavidha_ ’?” Tom asked before putting on the helmet Maia handed to him and getting on the passenger end of the motorbike.

“When in India, do what the Indians do,” she replied nonchalantly as she secured her helmet.

“But he wasn’t Indian,” he protested.

“I said ‘When in India, do what the Indians do’: not ‘When in India, do what your smelly, senile, middle-aged, repulsive kidnapper does’. Sweet Mother Teresa on the hood of a Mercedes Benz, Tom,” she said before revving the engine up and speeding off in the heat of the almost midday Indian sun. Or at least going in the fastest speed the congested Bangalore traffic would allow.

**17:40. Chennai.**

By the time they had reached Chennai, the sky was bathed in a mix of orange, pink, and dark orange, making it seem as if the sky was bleeding from an invisible wound. Night was about to fall, evident in the cool wind that blew through the quiet town. The calming wind and the crisp, distinct smell of the forthcoming night acted like a balm for the heat and odour of their almost five-hour long journey.

Maia parked her motorbike beside a mango tree before hopping off and turning her back towards Tom’s side.

“What are you doing?” Tom asked, still seated.

“Let me carry you,” she replied giddily.

“Are you kidding me?! You’re fucking five foot three, Maia! You won’t be able to carry me.”

“I can!” she protested. “I’m strong enough! I’ve done it before, lad. Besides,” she said, looking at him from over her shoulder, smiling that dazzling grin of hers, “I know you want it,” she continued, singing in her best Pitbull voice, which was actually very close to the real thing.

Tom eventually gave in, and he found himself riding piggyback on Maia’s back, her arms locked around his thighs as he slung his arms around her shoulders. True to her word, she was strong enough; she was totally unfazed by the weight of the grown man They came up to a doorstep, and she nudged Tom’s arm with her right shoulder, indicating that she wanted Tom to press the doorbell. He did so, and they heard footsteps hurriedly hobbling towards the door. The door was opened by a familiar face, and Maia smiled one of her best smiles.

“Sarah,” Maia said, making Tom jump a bit against her back as she lifted her arms up, as if her intent was to make his sister aware that he was there too.

“Maia! Tom!” What brings the both of you here?” she asked, genuine concern reflected in her voice.

“Look at the deep as hell shit your brother has waded himself into, Sarah!” Maia exclaimed, turning ninety degrees to show Sarah the deep gash on Tom’s left cheekbone. Sarah’s eyes widened in alarm as Maia continued havering.

“Look at that gash and tell me that he doesn’t need a first aid kit at the very least,” she continued, desperate to make her voice surface above her comrade’s giggling. Apparently, her ‘deep as hell shit’ line had triggered a fit of giggles to bubble from Tom’s lips. Maia turned around to face Sarah and smiled again before puffing her cheeks with air and winking.

Sarah led the two of them to her breakfast bar, where Maia set Tom down on a bar stool before hoisting herself up on the stool beside Tom’s. Sarah’s husband held Tom’s toddler niece in his arms, and his niece looked on with an inquisitive look in her eyes. The little girl descended from her father’s grasp and climbed onto Maia’s lap just as Sarah came with the first aid kit.

“Darling, no,” Sarah said, giving a stern look to her daughter. “Your Auntie Maia has to treat your Uncle Tom’s wound.”

Tom’s niece sighed before getting down to the floor, only to make her way into her uncle’s lap. Tom chuckled, and Sarah pressed her lips together tightly.

“Just let her be, Sarah. She obviously just wants to be in someone’s lap,” Maia said dismissively as she opened the first aid kit, taking out the Betadine, cotton balls, tweezers, gauze, and medical tape. Using the tweezers, she picked up a cotton ball to soak it in the Betadine. Maia brought it up to Tom’s cheek, dabbing the cotton ball against the gash with utmost care.

“How did you end up getting employed by that man in the course of a mere two hours?” Tom asked, his eyebrows scrunched up with curiosity.

“Shut up, Hiddleston,” Maia replied. “The faster I work here, the faster you’ll be off that stool.” She sighed a bit before putting the cotton ball down to replace it with a new one. She repeated the procedure, pursing her lips together as Tom winced.

“I showed him my ankles,” she eventually said.

“A trite answer, yeah?” Tom laughed, his intoxicating laughter lightening the room’s mood.

“No!” Maia countered as she applied the gauze. “I literally just showed him my ankles and maybe I gave him my best bedroom eyes look—Andrew said I looked Indian so hey, might as well use it to my full advantage. He called me a wanton whore and said that he lacked manpower, and that ‘maybe he needed a woman instead of a man.’ After that, he asked me my name. I had to make up one on the spot; I used the name Navina because I had an Indian lowerclassman from my Japanese Studies class in Cambridge with that name. She called me  _sempai_  all the time. Anyway, two hours after that one of his goons came with you slung over one shoulder and then your captor walked over to me and said—TO MY FACE—that I should follow to the room the put you in shortly after. God, he stunk like a rancid old arse.” She paused because of Tom’s incessant laughter; He found it extremely endearing and hilarious whenever Maia would curse. Sarah, on the other hand, giggled as she cooked dinner for the five of them. She was totally confident to leave her daughter in their care despite the nature of Maia’s story; Maia had made it clear during one of her earlier visits on what Tom’s neice shouldn’t look up to or pay heed to when she was around.

“While he tied you down to that chair, I shot all of his goons with my tranquilizer watch and chucked them outside in the huge garbage bin after taking all their weapons and tying their limbs together,” Maia continued. “Well, almost all. The ones we fought must’ve been someplace else when I took care of the ones in the garbage bin. I locked the garbage bin shut and sealed it with tar for good measure. I then scurried up, and he asked me why I took so long. I told him that I was getting ready for our kinky time after. You should’ve seen the look on his face! Then he doused you with water and you know how the story goes on after that. I guess you really  _can_  get misogyny to work for you sometimes.”

By the time her story ended, the gauze had been secured to his face with the medical tape.

“Wear it for an hour and come back,” Maia told Tom, who, soon after she finished her sentence, jigged the knee his niece was sitting on.

“In an hour? Why?” he asked.

“Because,” she replied, waving him off.

“Would you like me to read you a story, darling girl?” Tom said before nuzzling his niece’s neck, eliciting a fit of giggles from the cute toddler. Tom lifted his niece onto his shoulders and alighted the stool, walking towards the sofa in the adjacent living room.

Sarah walked over to Maia and sat in the stool her brother just sat on. Eventually, the two girls just started talking about everything: the latest trends, politics, anything. It was an amazing chance for the both of them to catch up on their lives and whatnot. Before they knew it, almost an hour had passed.

“Maia,” she said, turning her head to face Maia. Maia, in turn, turned her head to face Sarah.

“Yes, sweetie?” Maia asked, smiling a gentle smile.

“…Do you still love my brother?” Sarah asked, concern swimming in her eyes.

“Of course I still do. I’ve loved him since we were children, you know that.”

“Is he still the clueless jackass that he’s been since we were children?” Sarah asked with a bit of comical concern tainting her tone.

“Yes,” she giggled before heaving a deep sigh.

“We’ll have to be off soon,” Maia muttered as Tom walked towards their direction.

“I’ll have to check on the curry,” Sarah said, using her cooking as a curt excuse to walk away from the pair. She obviously wanted them to be alone; she hoped that the scene she had dreamt of for the longest time would finally unfold.

 “So…” Tom began as he sat on the stool again. “Am I here so that you can check on the scar?”

“ _For the love of God, Tom!_ ” Sarah yelled as she chucked the potatoes into the curry.

“What?” Tom said, his head rearing towards his sister’s direction.

“Oh, you thought I was yelling at you, sweetie?” Sarah asked. “I was practising the line that was given me for this play that we’re supposed to perform on my friend’s birthday! That wasn’t about you at all!”

Despite her excuse, it was quite obvious that the outburst was directed towards Tom. He let it all slide as Maia leant in to cup Tom’s face. Sarah’s breath hitched, and Maia reared her head to give a pointed ‘Are you seriously serious???’ glare. Sarah giggled and went back to stirring their supper.

“Let me have a look at the gash,” Maia said as she lifted the medical tape off. She lifted the gauze to find that seemingly nothing had changed, but it was actually the in perfect state for the next procedure.

“What are you doing?” Tom asked as Maia rummaged through her bag for something in her backpack. She took out a simple-looking healing plaster.

“That’s just an ordinary plaster!” Tom exclaimed as she placed the plaster on his cheek.

“That,” she said as she smoothed it over. “is where you’re wrong. This is specifically designed to quicken the recovery of your scar to 500%. I did some extensive research for that small patch; it’s for moments like these.”

“Thank you,” Tom said, lifting his head to look her in the eyes, taking her hands into his as he did so. Maia felt the air knock out of her lungs as he stared on; her heart’s palpitating felt like a jumping toddler high on soda and candy.

“Sarah we need to leave,” Maia said with no pauses for punctuation whatsoever. Her head was bent down and she turned sideways, breaking Tom’s grasp on her hands. She was averting Tom’s gaze, and he sighed heavily.

“Why? The curry’s bubbling happily away on the stove,” Sarah said with a disappointed voice.

“I have to make sure that this lad is in Japan by tomorrow afternoon. Naturally, we’ll be on a jet,” Maia muttered, still flustered from the moment that just happened between Tom and her.

“Stay the night. Call Pollux and tell them you’ll be in the airport by 5:30 in the morning; you ride your motorbike like a psycho and I know Pollux flies jets like a motherfucking madman. Tom will be earlier than early tomorrow. Please, sweetie,” Sarah urged. “you’re tired as blooming hell. Both of you are,” she added, giving a nod in Tom’s direction.

Time flew fast through their suppertime and the moments that inched toward bedtime; Maia’s head was still reeling from her encounter. Countless terrorists and bullets and violence had never fazed her from a clear head, but the small gesture of her grateful best friend did? What was wrong with her? She had a ready answer for that question: she was frozen deep in love with her comrade, her mission mate, and best friend: Thomas William Hiddleston.

Maia felt asleep still thinking of Tom and his gesture. Her heart was drowning in love once again…

**5:30. Chennai International Airport.**

“Sweet, blessed land!” Tom exclaimed as he knelt on the aeroplane-landing tarmac and kissed it. Maia leant against her Harley Davidson and looked on, giggling as she did so. The sun was still sleepy, only rising a little bit, tainting the sky with a brilliant mauve.

“You!” Tom yelled, jokingly pointing an accusatory finger at her. “You ride your motorbike like a psychopath!”

Maia’s giggle erupted into a full, resounding laugh when she realised that those were the exact same words his elder sister had used.

“Lad, Lassie, let’s go,” Pollux said, gesturing towards the jet. Tom offered his arm to her, bent at the elbow to make it look as if he was inviting her, and Maia gladly linked her arm in his. Sometimes, these unexpected moments were simply the best.

**11:30. Jet flying over Kumamoto.**

“The mangoes are sour!” Tom whined, his face scrunched up in the most hilarious expression.

“Indian mangoes. The  _bagoong_  makes it better,” Maia replied nonchalantly as she took a wedge of the green mangoes and dipped it in her beloved  _bagoong_.

“Are you kidding? The  _bagoong_  is stinky and salty! Like the pink  _buro_  you ate on that flight back from Moscow!”

“Oi, stop making fun of my home country’s food legacies, lad!” Maia snapped back, glancing at her watch. “Shouldn’t you be changing into your suit now?”

“You’re right. Be back in a jiffy,” Tom said as he stood up and walked over to the inflight restroom, picking up his suit as he did so.

Maia took this time to reflect on their…partnership. Tom was still unaware of her feelings, and she was still too much of a coward to tell him what she felt. But cowardice was better than pain, wasn’t it?

**12:20. Jet Flying over Tsuyama.**

“What took you so long? I started to pray a novena because you were taking so long in there,” Maia said, standing to take the bag that contained her dress.

“Hair. That and my tie seems to be missing,” Tom replied. True enough, the top two buttons of his dress shirt were still undone, waiting for a tie. Maia walked past him and entered the cubicle. She emerged ten minutes later, in her black cocktail dress and heels, holding a bottle of Garganega in one hand and a rose clamped between her teeth. She had sunglasses on, and a blue tie was tightened around her head like a bandana.

“Where’d you get all that?” Tom asked, perplexed.

“I’m put together perfectly,” she began singing, her words muffled by the rose between her teeth. She walked on over to stand in front of Tom. “Big wet bottle in my fists, big wet rose in my teeth,” she sang before putting the bottle down and taking the rose out, cutting its stem short and placing it in his breast side suit pocket. “I’m a perfect piece of ass.”

Tom laughed at her The National reference, and she loosened the tie from her head.

“Jessie must’ve mixed things up at HQ; your tie found its way into my bag,” Maia said as she tied the tie around Tom’s upturned collar before folding the collar down again.

“You look stunning,” Tom said, turning his head up to look at her.

Suddenly, the jet shook, causing Maia’s forehead to press against Tom’s, their noses touching lightly. Maia’s eyes were wide with shock. On the other hand, Tom’s eyes were hooded with an undecipherable emotion and his smirk certainly wasn’t helping. “Right back at you,” Maia mumbled quickly before she stepped away and made her way back to her own seat on the opposite side of the aisle, her cheeks steeped in a furious blush.

**13:20. Tokyo International Airport.**

‘What was behind that stare of his?’ She asked herself to the point of deliria until she felt the wheels of the jet touch the airport’s landing tarmac. She glanced at her watch, knowing that with the right amount of time, they would make it not a moment too late.

“Wait,” Maia said before Tom opened the jet’s door. “Let’s remove the plaster first,” she said, lightly scratching at his cheek to lift the plaster from his face. Sure enough, the wound had healed nicely, as if it was unscathed since he was born.

“Amazing,” Tom said as he brushed his fingers over the area where the scar had been. “You and your geekiness, Maia. If he saw this, my dad would be so proud of me for being in company the likes of you,” he said.

“You are truly something else,” Tom said before wrapping his arm around Maia’s waist and stepping down onto the tarmac with her. What Tom didn’t know was that the girl of his dreams, the one he was holding in his arm, was blushing more furiously and swooning more on the inside than the outside.

**18:20. Red Carpet Event. Tokyo.**

This was it. Apparently they got lost for around two hours just searching for the place, but Tom had calculated for that and was still a tad bit early. As he stepped onto the red carpet with Maia, he had to remind himself to keep his secret life locked away for the time being. No one outside the trade must know that his full time job was being a member agent of the Ministry of Defence, and that being an actor was only his part-time job, the kind of thing that would make him seem more normal than he actually was.

He tried, instead, to focus on the beautiful girl in his arms. He had fallen in love with her during their cases, but still wondered if her often flirtatious quips were mere jokes or not. Maia had saved his life that day, but she had saved something more important: his heart. He tried devising a plan on how to tell her that night of his feelings, only to be distracted by the bright flashes of light from a sea of DSLRs.

“Ando who isu she?” a Japanese reporter asked, gesturing towards Maia.

“This is my best friend and translator, Maia Serafico,” he replied, looking down to see her face. The face that always cheered him up. The face of the woman who made him believe in love again.

“Go for it,” she whispered.

Tom removed his hand from Maia’s waist, only to place his hands to the side and bow a short but not so deep bow. Maia was doing the same, save that her hands were in front of her thighs.

“ _Douzo yoroshiku onegaishimasu_!” they enthusiastically said in unison. They soon stood up straight again, and Maia wrapped her arm around Tom’s waist. The crowd erupted in a awed cheer as they tried to take in that Tom Hiddleston was speaking in their native language. Imagine!  _Tom Hiddleston_!

“Interpol Most Wanted rank 17, Dmitri Novoseltsev. Behind the girl with the little Loki helm,” Maia whispered against Tom’s suit.

Oh well. The work just never ends.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the last fic I wrote before my four year hiatus. I think I myself at the time was put off with everything I tried to make this OC into, which is why I ended up not writing for three years. However, I respect the esteem that my former self held in this fic, and to be perfectly honest, it's an excellent idea, but the execution wasn't my finest.


End file.
